A kind of magic
by Desuke-Love
Summary: An alternate Ballroom scene, what I think SHOULD have happened. More romantic, I hope you enjoy it. This is my first publication, please R R. Thanks :-


Her head stopped spinning, and Sarah's vision began to focus on a ballroom filled with people. It was illustriously decorated; candle chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, marble floors and pillars, frayed tapestry decorating the walls. There were seemingly thousands of people in the ballroom. The men wore silk shirts over tights, the women illustrious dresses, off the shoulder, bejewelled. All of them wore masks, goblin masks, with snouts, horns, and grotesquely distorted features. Some of the couples were dancing along to a sweet melody that seemed to be coming from nowhere. Others were strewn about on throw pillows, drinking, laughing, but no one seemed to be talking. Whilst frolicking amongst themselves, they all seemed to be looking at Sarah. She suddenly felt self conscious. Turning left and right, she tried to get a glimpse of a familiar face amongst the strangers, but to no avail. She turned around, and found herself gazing at her own reflection. She now realised that she too was wearing a splendid ball gown, silvery white, with lace and puffed sleeves. She wore a pearl necklace, and pearls were woven into her hair. She smiled to herself.

Then, in the corner of the mirror, she saw the face of a handsome young man. He had blond hair, streaked with blue, in a midnight blue frock coat, diamantes scattered at the neck, shoulders and cuffs. Pale gray silk ruffled at his throat and wrists, and he wore black tights and black, shiny boots. Sarah felt certain she had seen this man before. She spun round, but he was gone. She scanned the crowd, but still she could not see him.

A man noticed her searching, and stared at her, licking his lips in a vulgar fashion. He approached her from behind and whispered something to her. She turned, a look of horror and disgust on her innocent face. Being sure to keep the corner of her eye on the man, she began browsing the ballroom for that familiar face.

A hand touched her shoulder, and Sarah turned distractedly, only to find herself face to face with the handsome almost-stranger. He smiled at her, and she smiled shyly back. The man held his hand out to her and she took it – suddenly, she was dancing, spinning round the room in the arms of this handsome stranger with such a familiar face that Sarah felt she simply must ask "who are you?"

The stranger laughed. "Don't you know?"

"I..." she started. "You seem...so familiar. I could almost swear I've seen your face before."

"Perhaps you have," the stranger smiled. Sarah blushed. Dancing with this man, his arms around her, the way he looked at her with a mixture of fondness, awe, and dare she think, passion? It made her feel beautiful. He never took his eyes off of her. To him, there was only her, in this whole ball room, and she too, mesmerised by the strangers' charm, saw none but him.

"You are incredibly beautiful," he said softly, and Sarah's blush deepened.

"Am I...in a dream?" she asked, airy and confused.

"Stay in your dreams Sarah," the stranger said, staring deeply into her eyes. She flinched slightly. How did he know her name?

"If you truly want to be yourself, to be free – you do want that?" Sarah nodded.

"Abandon your dreams and you are at the mercy of other people's dreams. Forget them Sarah. Trust your dreams."

Sarah stared, transfixed, at the handsome stranger – or perhaps he was not a stranger. He bent his head, and his lips brushed against her hair. Her eyes flickered shut.

"Trust me, Sarah," he whispered. "Can you do that?"

Sarah nodded. She stared into the strangers beautiful but queer eyes – one green, one brown. He moved his face towards hers. Her head told her she shouldn't – she had only just met this man, didn't even know his name. But her heart began to beat faster in anticipation of the moment when his lips touched hers. He put his hand up to her face, touched her cheek, brushed her hair from her eyes, and gently kissed her. Sarah felt a tingle down her spine, the pure exhilaration of this stranger's magical kiss. How long did they stand there, lips locked together passionately? It could have been seconds, minutes – time seemed to stand still.

The stranger pulled away. Just as he did, Sarah heard a clock strike twelve. Over the strangers shoulder, she saw a thirteen hour clock. Memories came flooding back to her. The labyrinth. She had been looking for something. Something that someone had taken from her. And this man...

Jareth.

She realised with a start that this handsome stranger she had danced with, shared her first kiss with, was, in fact, the king of the goblins. Looking around, Sarah could see that the masked people had crowded around them, mocking smiles on their faces, barely able to hold back their laughter. She looked at Jareth. He seemed unaware of it all. His mismatched eyes seemed to say 'trust me'.

Sarah stumbled backwards away from him, her fingers touching her lips where his had been moments ago. She turned and ran, through the crowds of jeering, masked faces, who all seemed to have known her predicament long before she herself. As she pushed her way through all of the people, she cursed her heart for winning over her head, her heart that still insisted, despite her minds protest, that it had been such a magical kiss.

Sarah suddenly found herself standing in front of the mirror again. Cracks appeared, and it splintered into thousands of pieces. She raised her arms above her head to protect herself. But instead of being hit with shards of glass, she found herself surrounded by floating spheres, like bubbles or crystals. Her eyes drooped, and she began to feel dizzy once more.


End file.
